he. “’Tis a long time since I saw thee, youngster—wast then a lad the height o’ my knee. Art grown a man now, and hast sinews of thy own, I warrant me.”

“’Tis Sir Jarvis Cutler,” whispered Gregory, as I took the man’s hand.

“Thou art right, old cock!” says Sir Jarvis. “Gad! I like the look of thy nose and of the bottle thou carriest. And how does my old friend Sir Nicholas, young Dick—well and hearty, I hope—for there’s need of him now, i’faith.”

“I fear that need must still be needy, then, sir,” says I. “My uncle suffers much at present, and stirs only from his couch to his chair.”

“’Sdeath!” says he. “’Tis bad news, that—but, what, he will find a substitute in thee, I doubt not. Hark thee, Dick, I have ridden hither from Stainborough, and my horse, poor beast, ’tis hard put to it—we will not to Pomfret to-night—there’s no hurry—see to it that my horse is cared for—Sir Nicholas, I am sure, will grudge neither it nor me a night’s lodging. And help me to some dry gear, lad, that I may go in and see thy uncle—’od’s body, as bad a night as ever I was out in!”

So I sent Gregory to tell Sir Nicholas of Sir Jarvis Cutler’s arrival and to prepare food and drink, and I had Sir Jarvis to my own chamber in order to provide him with dry clothes.

“We are much of a build, thou and I,” says he. “Faith, thou hast grown mightily o’ late, lad. But thou art more for books than swords, eh, Dick? Why, so Sir Nicholas gave me to understand, but in these times there’ll be more sword-work than book-work, boy—aye, marry!”

“Then the war has broke out, sir?” says I. “We heard something of it, but our news was scanty.”

“’Tis true enough,” he says, struggling somewhat with his garments. “Faith, I can give thee an inch or maybe two in the shoulders, Master Dick. Yes, lad, true enough—His sacred Majesty hath set up his flag against the rebels and traitors.”

“His Majesty hath set up his flag?” I says. “When and where, sir, might that be?”

“At Nottingham, lad, five days ago. I myself was there at the time, and came north with charges and messages enow to fill better heads than mine. But let us to Sir Nicholas, Dick. I have much to say to him.”

We found my uncle greatly excited over the arrival of Sir Jarvis, and giving orders as to food and drink to Gregory, who was laying a table close to the hearth. He made an effort to rise from his chair as we entered, but the gout tweaked his toe, and he sat there, groaning and making wry faces as he stretched out his hand to the knight.

“Plague on this gout!” says he. “It prevents me from playing my part, Sir Jarvis, as I should; but you are welcome, indeed. Gregory, a flask of my Tokay—fine stuff, Sir Jarvis, on such a night as this. Draw near to the fire, Sir Jarvis. Dick, thy manners, boy—give Sir Jarvis a seat near me—’tis parlous weather, Sir Jarvis, and must needs have its effect on them that have crops out.”

“There are other matters than crops to think of, neighbour,” says Sir Jarvis. “If crops were all——”

“Ah, you bring us news? We hear rumours o’ things in this quarter, but unless a neighbour visits us——”

“The King hath declared war against the rebels,” says Sir Jarvis. “His Majesty set up the Royal Standard at Nottingham five days ago. I marvel you have not heard it sooner.”

“Jasper heard it in Pomfret this afternoon,” I says. “I was coming to tell you of it, sir, just as Sir Jarvis arrived.”

“God save His Majesty!” says my uncle. He sat staring at the blazing logs in the hearth. “It vexes me sore that I cannot lift sword in his honour. Once upon a time——”

“Aye,” says Sir Jarvis, “the dog cannot always run, neighbour! Howbeit——”

He addressed himself to the good things which Gregory set before him. While he ate and drank I slipped away and went to my own chamber to think over the news which he had brought. For me it bore a significance which I was not able to explain to either Sir Jarvis Cutler or my uncle, nor indeed to any one in the Manor House. I have said that when I heard definite rumour of it from Jasper it gave me some sort of shock. And the reason was that I now knew the time for action was at hand. I and others of my way of thinking had banded ourselves together at Oxford, and had taken oath that when the moment came for striking a blow for the rights and liberties of Englishmen we would give in our open adherence to the Parliamentarians, and do our best to bring to an end the tyrannical rule under which good men and true citizens had long suffered. There was scarce one of our society that did not spring from a Royalist family, even as I myself did, and for that reason we had been obliged to keep our tongues strictly guarded; saying naught, though we heard much. We were all young men of a certain turn of thought, that is to say, our philosophical studies, prosecuted for the most part according to our own tastes, had led us to favour republicanism rather than monarchy, and this in spite of the fact that we were surrounded by every influence likely to make our opinion tend in the opposite direction. Now, we had resolved that whenever war should break out, as we felt it must, our theories should find their practical outcome in taking arms in defence of the popular cause, and so as soon as I heard the definite news brought by Sir Jarvis Cutler I knew that ere long there must be open breach between my uncle and myself. I had hoped that this might never be, for I knew Sir Nicholas would bitterly resent what he would term my treachery to the King. However, I could not take my hand from the plough even had I wished, for I was bound by a solemn oath. And, indeed, save for Sir Nicholas’s sake I had no wish to do so, I, like many a young man of those times, being heartily sick of the cruelties and oppressions under which so many of my countrymen suffered.

I was now sorry that I had not ridden over to Doncaster that day to my friend Matthew Richardson, who was one of our society, and acted as a kind of centre round which the rest of us revolved. I should have been glad of his counsel—besides which I knew that he would be in possession of full information as to all that was going on. It was apparent to me that I should shortly have to declare myself, for Sir Nicholas would certainly design my assistance for the King, and that, let come what might, I knew could never be given. So I sat there some time, wondering what would next happen, and wishing that things might be so ordered that no breach should occur between me and my worthy relative. But presently there came a tapping at my chamber door, and Gregory pushed in his head to inform me that a man waited my coming in the porch below.

“’A seems to have ridden hard and far,” said Gregory, as we went down the stair together. “Pray God he ask not a night’s lodging, Master Dick, for Sir Jarvis’s beast has got our only empty stall, and the night is too wild to turn one of our own horses into the fold.”

“’Twill but be some post that brings me a letter,” I answered. “I shall not invite him to tarry.”

“A mug of ale, sir,” said Gregory. “Maybe he would stay long enough for that. If you——”

I nodded, and crossing the kitchen shut the door behind me. There was a lamp hanging in the porch, and by its light I saw the messenger—a thick-set fellow—standing in the doorway, muffled to the eyes in his cloak, and holding his horse’s bridle over his arm, across which the brute thrust a wet nose that sniffed at the light.